Deja Vu
by Graveygraves
Summary: Set post Season 6: in the aftermath of all that has happened Reid fails his gun requalification. How does this effect him within the team. This ia a gift for Nubula 2 to say thank you for the support. Beta'd. Five-Shot. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**Déjà Vu**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Ok so another gift fic, this one for Nebula 2, who helped me out with my story Misty Eyed for the CCOAC Challenge 13.**

**Nebula2 gave me the pair Hotch and Reid and the prompts: flood, missing item, handgun requalification. This is set at the end of Series 6.**

**Hope you like it.**

**. . . **

"So, this is where you are hiding?" Morgan smirked.

"I wouldn't exactly call it hiding," Reid looked up from the file in his hand.

"Then what would you call it?" Morgan asked, looking around the dusty records room.

"Research," Reid replied flatly.

"Right, so this is the source of your constant reel of random case knowledge, there was I thinking you snuck of for secret rendezvous with some FBI hottie when you disappeared for hours on end," Morgan mocked.

Reid shot him a look, deciding not to bother dignifying his comment with a reply.

Morgan perched himself on the edge of the desk Reid was studying at. He looked down at his younger colleague. He knew he had had it rough, they all had. Losing Prentiss had hit them all, but Reid seemed to be struggling to move on. Morgan also knew about the headaches. Reid rarely spoke of them, but Morgan had got pretty good at spotting them. He half wondered if he had one now, the record room was a lot darker then the florescent lit bullpen.

"Did you want anything in particular? Or are you just here to annoy me?"

"Well, sor . . .ry," Morgan drew out the word. "Actually I'm part of the search party Hotch sent out for you."

Reid looked up at Morgan, disappointment evident on his face. Before he spoke Morgan noticed that little nervous twitch, in the corner of his mouth, the one he has when awkwardness threatens to consume him.

"He . . . urm . . . he's . . . looking for me," Reid said, pulling a face. "Did he . . . Did he say why?"

Morgan shrugged.

"I'll be right up," Reid swallowed.

. . .

As he replaced the file, Reid knew what his superior wanted. He was in no rush to discuss the matter, but now realised it could be postponed no longer.

Reid trudged along the corridor to the elevator, he let his feet drag, trying to bide as much time as humanly possible before facing the inevitable.

Leaning back against the cool steel, he took a deep breath, trying not to let the constant throbbing in his head overcome his ability to think clearly. He wasn't one to hide behind excuses, he had leant a long time ago that excuses didn't work. It was black or white, you deserved to pass or you deserved to fail. It was the way it had been in high school; the FBI wasn't that different, just the kids in the playground were bigger and, luckily for him, friendlier.

In no time he was hovering outside the door of his Unit Chief's temporary home. Facing what he knew as the office of Section Chief Strauss, somehow made the 'chat' he was about to have worse.

As he sat, waiting for whoever was in there to come out, his feet begun to tap out a nervous rhythm, trying to distract himself from the building tension in his forehead. Reid was more than aware of the signs and symptoms of his headaches now and this one was textbook. It started with the dull ache, building to a crescendo of pain, only to subside after an hour of agony. This pattern could repeat its self for days or be a one shot.

He looked up as the door opened, noting Rossi exit. Reid stood; ready to take his turn in the plush office.

"Been a naughty boy, have we? Called to the Headmaster's office," Rossi smiled at his own joke.

"No . . . I . . . urm . . . Hotch wanted to see me about something," he finally managed, as he turned away from the older agent.

"Hey Kid," Rossi called, as Reid placed his hands on the door, "you missing something?"

"No, no, I don't think so," Reid looked puzzled.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, "Your gun!"

Reid looked down at the vacant space on his belt, as if noticing for the first time it was missing. He shoved his hands into his pocket, desperately trying to find an explanation, other than the truth.

"Wasn't it your requalification this morning?" Rossi questioned, starting to put two and two together and hoping he wasn't making four.

Reid's head dropped, knowing this was the beginning of people finding out.

. . .

Sat opposite Hotch, his side arm taunting him as it lay on Hotch's desk, Reid didn't know where to look. He was immensely uncomfortable. Hotch continued to finish the task he had started, not putting down his pen until happy that he had finished.

Placing his pen down with slow deliberation, he snuck a look at the young agent before raising his head fully.

Though he had deliberately put the gun in view, to gauge a reaction, now Hotch moved the hand gun from the desk, putting it into his top drawer. He watched how Reid's eyes traced its path.

Hotch didn't know where to start, he had coached Reid through his handgun requalification twice a year, every year, since Reid had joined the team. This time had been no different. Initially it had been a close thing as to whether he would pass or not, but he had only failed once, previously. Hotch had seen Reid's scores increase consistently over the years and was surprised by today's fail.

"You are aware you can retest in two weeks," Hotch begun.

Reid nodded, that didn't save him the embarrassment of facing the team without his gun, and at a time when they were short too. Yes JJ had returned, but since she had come back Seaver had left, so they were still one agent down.

"Reid," Hotch continued, "you are a good agent, your input is invaluable to the team; you have proven time and time again that you are more than capable of making appropriate use of a weapon in the field, equally you have proved Gideon right in the fact that 'you don't have to carry a gun to kill someone'."

Reid looked up at his boss, biting his lip, he wanted so hard to say something, but words failed him.

"I haven't told anyone yet, Rossi included," Hotch nodded at the door, aware that Reid had seen him leave the office.

"It's ok, he knows," Reid managed.

Hotch briefly looked surprised, he hadn't expected him to share the news just yet.

Seeing the fleeting look, Reid explained:

"He noticed on the way out."

"Oh," Hotch accepted. "It is not necessary for a profiler to carry a weapon. The team will understand; we're all struggling to adjust to the changes that have happen recently. It was unfortunate that this coincided with your assessment."

Reid nodded again.

"How do you want to deal with this, shall I talk to the team for you?"

Reid shook his head furiously. He would not hide behind someone else.

"That's fine," Hotch reassured, aware he had insulted his pride, "Reid if you want to talk, I'm here, you know that."

Reid nodded, still unable to trust his voice fully.

"Hotch, I . . .," he started, "I'll talk to everyone, individually, thank you."

Reid stood, finding the office increasingly claustrophobic, he wanted to leave.

"Reid," Hotch said with some force, "I mean it. In the meantime extra practice starts tomorrow morning, early."

"Thank you sir," Reid added before leaving.

Outside of the office, Reid made his way quickly to the nearest bathroom. Once behind closed doors, he steadied himself on a sink, his head pounding. This was the last thing he needed. Splashing his face with the cool water, he tried to prepare himself for facing the team, and letting them down.

. . .

**I hope Rossi noticing Reid****'****s gun missing can count as a missing item ****–**** please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Déjà Vu**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Sorry this chapter doesn****'****t really meet the Reid/Hotch side of the deal, but didn****'****t feel I could brush over him talking to the team. Talk about make my life harder! (Also it was a way to buy time in the hope that Hotch might be nice and let me play - shame it didn't work)**

**Thank you to everyone who has alerted or favourited this story but a huge thanks to LoveforPenandDerek, luvnumb3rs, Marauder-In-Disguise and of cause nubula2 (who I wrote the story for) for theie support reviews. They really are appreciated.  
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. . .

Reid tried to decide on the best way to approach the team. Over the years he had come to rely on them as surrogate family. However he was struggling to be honest with them, afraid they would see him as the weak link in the team, especially now, when everyone had to be so strong.

Only Emily, and then Morgan, knew about the headaches, and he was pretty sure Morgan hadn't told anyone. Though years ago Morgan did tell both Hotch and Gideon about his nightmares; Reid knew Morgan did it because he thought they ought to know, _was __'__this__'__ the same?_

Then there was Emily. Sometimes Reid wondered if he was the only one that still cried. Sure Garcia still stopped and looked at Emily's photograph in the corridor, but she didn't cry any longer. She was way ahead of him; Reid couldn't even look at the picture.

All of this was making him so cross with himself, he was going around in circles unable to solve anything, only seeming to compact the way he felt.

As he reached JJ's office, he knocked gently, half hoping she wouldn't hear.

"Come in," she called.

Entering, he hovered by her desk, waiting for her to look up and acknowledge his arrival.

JJ looked up from the pile on her desk - a mix of files, textbooks, notepads and empty coffee cups.

"You don't have to wait to be asked to sit down in here," she smiled.

Reid didn't know what it was, but he was a little uncomfortable around JJ since she returned. He had once been so close, but she seemed so different now. Like she had grown up and left him behind. Sitting down, he began shifting uncontrollably.

"You know, anytime you want to use that brilliant mind to help me out with my studies, I'll be more than willing to accept, I'll even throw in a dinner, home cooked, with the bonus of time with your Godson. What do you say?"

"Of course, but I don't know what I can do to help. I can't do the reading for you and I'm passed completing other people's homework for them."

JJ smiled, for a second there was the old Spencer Reid, something she hadn't really seen, since she returned. She knew something was bothering him, but no idea what.

"You know what?" JJ started. "You had better tell Morgan that, as he is still sneaking files into your in tray daily."

"I know," Reid shrugged.

"Soooo," JJ mused, "offering to help with my workload is not the reason you are here. So what is?"

"I failed my requalification," Reid even surprised himself with the bluntness of his answer.

"Oh," was all JJ could manage, aware of how her friend must be feeling. Moving around from her desk, she crouched down beside him, "Want to talk?"

"No," Reid didn't meet her eyes, "I have work to do, but thought you should know."

"Oh, ok," JJ stood up, shaken by his abrupt response.

. . .

Taking a deep breath Reid decided to face Morgan while he still felt he could. The large quantity of painkillers he had taken in the bathroom was starting to subdue his headache to a bearable level.

Opening the door to Morgan's office, as commanded, he was surprised to see Garcia perched on the edge of Morgan's desk. Two birds with one stone, he thought.

"Hey kid, you made it out of the records safely then?"

Reid nodded, _why wouldn__'__t I?_

"You know that stuff has all been computerised now, don't you Hun?" Garcia asked.

"I can read quicker on paper then a screen," he justified.

Everyone paused, not quite knowing what to say next.

"What can I help you with then?" Morgan finally asked, growing weary of the silence.

"Oh shall I go, leave you two to it?" Garcia stood.

"No, I need to tell you both, so you might as well hear it now."

"That sounds ominous," Morgan was now really starting to worry.

"I failed my requalification," Reid decided this had worked fine with JJ, hopefully it would with these.

No-one said a word. Garcia shot Morgan a glare that clearly dared him to tease.

"You get a retest in two weeks, right?" Morgan knew the answer, but wanted something to say.

Reid reverted to nodding.

Garcia rushed round to give him a hug.

"Cupcake, you have a far more impressive weapon then any gun, your mind baffles us mere mortals. Let our overgrown jock, over there, take care of the shooting, you and me can put our heads together and get him in the right place to do his bit."

"Thanks," Reid appreciated she was trying to make him feel better. Apprehensively he looked passed Garcia at Morgan, half expecting to receive the whistle back that Morgan had taunted him with last time he failed.

"You want some help, I can get some extra practice in with you if you like," Morgan offered, well aware that this was not a time to tease.

"It's OK; Hotch has decided not to give up on the challenge of getting me through."

. . .

Reid had decided it wasn't necessary to speak to Rossi; after all he had spotted his gun missing. So he returned to his desk, happy to escape in the paperwork he had allowed to build on his desk. He liked having a batch to get through rather than doing it in dribs and drabs.

Reid wasn't there long, before they were called up to the conference room. Another case had come to their attention.

As they sat round the table, Garcia begun to introduce the case, it had remained part of her role in the changes to the team's organisation.

"As always you have the gory details in your version, I meanwhile will give you the dots to connect. We have two robberies, last month; that resulted in the death of the homeowners. First 77 year-old Flora Gibson who was choked and beaten during the break in, two days later 91 year-old Louise Humphrey died in near identical circumstances."

"So why bring us in?" Morgan had to ask.

"Are, you may well wonder Hot Stuff," Garcia started to answer his question, "this is where the dots get further apart. At the end of last summer, 89 year-old Olivia Cross was beaten to death during a pretty robbery."

"The police are convinced these are connected?" JJ questioned, flicking through the images on the screen in front of her.

"Uh- huh, and obviously they are more than a little worried that this creep has the whole summer ahead of him," Garcia spun back to face the team, away from the photographs of the three victims.

"The first murder last year could have been a mistake," Rossi started, "If he had been committing break-ins for a while and suddenly Olivia Cross comes back and catches him in her house, he panics and beats her to death. Decides he enjoys it; bam - change of MO."

"Then, why the break over the winter?" Morgan questioned skeptically, "Surely he's going to want to repeat that feeling as soon as possible."

"Maybe his pleasure shocked him," Rossi replied.

"Or he's a seasonal worker, only in the area for the summer months," Reid interjected, "It may be worth checking for similar cases further a field."

"Good point," Hotch praised, wanting to boast Reid's confidence.

. . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Déjà Vu**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Thanks for the support and interest - especially the reviews from Marauder-In-Disguise, nebula2 and 68luvcarter  
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. . .

Hotch had had some concerns over Reid for a while, it was obvious that something was bothering him periodically, even before they 'lost' Prentiss. As they sat on the plane he watched the young agent as he worked. There was nothing specific he could put his fingers on, just that Reid wasn't right.

He decided that when they got home, and he got Reid on the range, he would try and figure out what was happening, because whatever it was, it was now starting to effect Reid's work and that he couldn't ignore. Something had made Reid fail that reassessment.

. . .

Reid was left in the small room the local police had put aside for them. He busied himself with setting up the boards, somehow his headaches were never as servere when he was busy, and bizarrely it was the quiet times in between that caused him the most pain.

Morgan and Rossi were out at the scene of a new murder that had been discovered hours before they arrived. Hotch had taken JJ with him to talk to the media and try and calm the rising panic in the town.

Reid put up the details of the latest victim, 77 year-old Emmy Green. This time the killer had stabbed her as well as beating her with an iron.

Hotch came back into the room, admiring the effort Reid had put in during his absence. This was the Reid he was use to; it was the dark shadow that seemed to constantly follow the genius that worried him. Other then the failed requalification there was no hard evidence of something wrong. In fact it was just because he knew Reid so well that he worried.

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asked, sure that Reid was unaware of his presence in the room.

"I agree with Rossi's initial idea. I think that the act of murder has become the prominent driving force for our UNSUB. He may have initially been motivated by financial rewards of burglary but little has been taken from our victims, some cash, small items; cameras and such like. Not high value objects."

"Have you had chance to work on a geographical profile?" Hotch questioned as he came to stand beside his colleague.

"It's very basic," Reid began, "based purely on our local victims, Garcia is trying to short list from the high number of possible victims she found elsewhere. If we can link them then it is possible we could build a picture of where he travels and this could lead to an idea of what sort of job he does. Though I'm guessing something manual, farm hand maybe, moves with harvest seasons. He's unlikely to be white-collar, due to the burglary aspect of the crime."

"Good," Hotch nodded his appreciation.

"JJ has gone out to speak to the relatives of some of the victims," Hotch explained, "I need to meet with the Chief, at the moment he is not on side and that is only going to make our life harder. You ok to continue working on the profile until I get back and can give you a hand?"

Reid had accepted that without a gun he was unlikely to see the outside of the station, so just nodded.

. . .

Morgan stood looking around the scene, as Rossi re-entered the small apartment.

"Thoughts?" Rossi asked.

"Why the change from choking to stabbing? That's a major leap. It looks like he smashed her head in with the iron first, and then stabbed her, so the kill has become a sexual release for him, post-mortem stabbing being the substitute for actual sex. But whatever way you look at this, he's all over the place."

"A disorganised killer," Rossi nodded, "his first kill was impulsive – a response to the circumstances he found himself in. The crime scenes are covered in his prints, yet they don't match anything on record. At least when we catch him, it should be easy to prove it."

. . .

Hotch returned in a foul mood, from his meeting with the police Chief. Reid glanced up from the paperwork in front of him.

"Anything new?" Hotch growled.

"Morgan and Rossi have just called, they are on their way to speak to relatives of Emmy Green. JJ is still out. Rossi said he thought we were looking at a fairly stereotypically disorganised killer, who hasn't been caught doing anything yet, even though his fingerprint have been found at a number of crime scenes over the past two years. Initially all were burglaries, but the last twelve months have a total of ten murders across this and a neighbouring state."

"OK, you ready to help me deliver the profile? See if we can get a lead on this guy."

. . .

"We are looking for someone of average intelligence at best. He will be mirroring his father's work record, as this is all he knows. It is likely in his childhood he travelled with his father from town to town looking for work. This means that school records will be patchy, if he even completed school. He is unlikely to have any qualifications." Hotch was in full flight of delivering his description of the disorganised killer, "He will have poor social skills; it is unlikely that he travels with other migrant workers, preferring solitude. His crimes are unplanned and impulsive. Initially he stole to survive; now he is combining this with murder to satisfy his own personal needs."

"You mean this is sexual?" a local called out, wrinkling his nose.

"The post-mortem stabbing of our last victim is a common substitute for penetrative sexual contact," Reid stepped in, "It is unlikely he ever intended to murder, but when Olivia Cross discovered him last year and he killed her it was likely that he felt some form of pleasurable release at the time. He is now killing to recreate that."

A hushed whisper circled the room, as it begun to sink in.

"Is it likely he will stop?" someone called from the back of the room.

"Not unless we stop him." Hotch answered, "He is leaving plenty of evidence at the scenes; we just need to narrow it down to possible suspects. We need to get out to the local farms and see if this profile fits anyone. Thank you."

. . .

Hotch had sent the team back out, each paired with a local officer, there was a lot of farm land to cover between them.

Everyone was beginning to feel as miserable as the weather outside. It had started raining earlier in the afternoon, but now it was getting increasingly heavy. The storm seemed to bear down on everyone's mood, with how unpredictable this killer was they could have another victim at anytime.

Hotch decided to check in with Reid before leaving to visit a couple of farms himself.

"You OK with staying here and helping Garcia go through the records?"

"You mean do I mind staying in the dry with a constant supply of coffee, while you drive around the countryside meeting random farmers in the chance it may give us a lead. I'm good thank you."

Hotch smiled, that was more like it, maybe he was overreacting to the whole 'there must be something wrong' thing. After all we all have bad days, though this was why he had dismissed it in the past.

"Though," Reid smiled, "Can we negotiate the whole working with Garcia bit."

"Hey, I heard that," came a shrill voice from the laptop in front of Reid, "Just because you have discovered your sense of humour doesn't mean you can use it to wind up your colleagues. Especially those who are capable of causing immeasurable cyber damage to you."

"Could you two try and get some work done while I'm gone," Hotch added as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Déjà Vu**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**OK I might be wandering the path to a cliché end but hey stick with me and I'll try and make it worthwhile.**

**Thank you to everyone who has read, alerted and favourited - interest in my stories always amazed me. Extra big thank you to LoveforPenand Derek, Fairytopia, nw21jcc, 1pearson, nebula2. Marauder-In-Disguise.  
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. . .

As Hotch drove passed the river he listened to the local officer explaining the history of the final farm they were visiting. The road, if it was possible to use that word to describe the dirt track they were on lead out to Manor Farm.

"To be honest, I'm not aware of this farm working for the last couple of years. Every since Old Man Hargreaves died it has been left. His son had no interest in taking on the farm. He left as soon as he got the grades for collage and as far as I know hasn't even come back to visit."

"Then why didn't he sell it?" Hotch asked.

"Think he's tried a couple of times, but local gossip is he's asking well over the odds. That kid always had ideas above his station."

"There is no other family?" Hotch continued to use the local's knowledge.

"Hargreaves wife dies a long time before him. After that he became a bit of a recluse, hiding up her on his own. There were rumours of a woman and her son moving in with him, the wife of an old farm hand that used to work for him. But nothing was ever confirmed."

Hotch had slowed right down due to the torrential rain, which made the journey last longer than he had anticipated. Part of him considered turning around, after all it was starting to sound like a waste of time. However to do that he would have to be capable of turning the vehicle round, the land either side of the track was increasingly sodden by the rain and the last thing he wanted was to get stuck.

. . .

Most of the team was back, Morgan sat at the computer laughing at some highly inappropriate comment Garcia had made when he had complained about being soaking wet and Rossi was on a coffee run. They knew JJ was on her way back - she was having to take a longer route round due to the river level rising and flooding the low level bridge they had used earlier.

Reid stood staring at the map, his fingers twitched as he tried to process all the information that was coming in. He had gone through the reports from the connected murders that other forces had supplied. This with the lack of information everyone else had brought back with them made their UNSUB seem like a ghost. No-one knew him; he didn't sound like anyone they employed, so he was moving around the country unnoticed.

His twitching increased the more he thought. _What were they missing?_

"Garcia," Reid called from his side of the room.

"Yes Sweet Pea, you said the last farm that Hotch was going to was on the market."

"Uh-huh, what you thinking, Boy Genius?"

The room had gone quiet. Even as Rossi entered he realised something was going on.

"What details can you get on the sale of it?"

"Easy my pet."

He could hear he tap away at her keyboard.

"I've sent it to you, but the place is pretty much derelict, no-one there to take care of it and no-one interested in buying it."

"Which would make it the perfect place to hide," Reid said, turning to face the others.

Morgan was up and at the door before Rossi had chance to put the coffee down.

"I'm coming too." Reid's long legs made it easy to cross the short distance of the room.

"No offence kids, but . . ." Morgan started, impatiently.

"I know, I'm not carrying a gun, but that doesn't mean I can't help."

. . .

Battling the weather, Morgan did his best to control the SUV he was in charge of driving.

"Slow down," Rossi hissed through gritted teeth.

"If I go much slower we may as well get out and walk," Morgan snapped back. As he did so he slammed his foot down on the breaks, nothing happened, they continued to move forward, "Shit."

As they felt the vehicle turn sideways, the back wheels left the road, finally catching in the deep mud of the edge of the field. The sudden stop jarred them all.

"What's wrong?" Reid asked from the back, unable to see what was happening in the dark.

"Looks like the track is flooded out," Rossi explained Morgan's sudden action, "we're not going any further forward tonight."

"I doubt we're going anywhere," Morgan mumbled trying to use the wing mirrors to assess the damage, hoping he wouldn't have to head out in the rain.

"Which means Hotch won't be able to come back either," Reid pointed out.

"Nope," Rossi agreed.

. . .

Hotch had heard his phone ring, he knew he should answer it, but right now he was concentrating hard on the path ahead. The weather was getting worse.

"Do you want me to get that for you?" The officer asked, getting slightly annoyed by its constant ringing.

"I'll answer it when we stop, it can't be far now," Hotch added in desperation.

When they finally pulled up adjacent to the run down building, Hotch cut the engine and pulled out his phone. All of the missed calls were from Rossi.

"You called," Hotch said as Rossi answered.

"Where are you?"

"At Manor Farm, we have literally just arrived, the road in is treacherous at best."

"We know," Rossi sympathised, "Morgan has just ditched us as we came to join you."

Hotch heard Morgan protesting in the background, but blame wasn't important right now.

"You guys OK?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, we're more worried about you. Reid thinks our UNSUB may be using the farm as a hide out."

Hotch paused, thinking about what they had discussed on the way up. He turned to Officer Penn;

"You said it was possible Hargreaves took in a woman and his son, have you any idea who it could be?"

"No, it was a rumour, Chief Carr may know, he makes his business to check out all rumours, says it helps him know his town."

"Rossi, did you hear that?" Hotch asked, "Have we got anyone back at the station?"

"JJ should be there by now," Rossi replied.

"OK I'll speak to her, let's hope she can charm our Chief into cooperating. This might be the lead we need."

"What are you going to do in the meantime?" Rossi asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Well we're here now, might as well have a look round," Hotch answered.

"Or you could sit tight and see what we find out."

. . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Déjà Vu**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Thank you to everyone for the support - really surprised by the interest in this one as I really struggle with Hotch. Big thanks to nebula2, LoveforPenandDerek, Marauder-In-Disguise, Nympahadora-CullenBAU, Jabberswife and Sue1313 for the reviews.**

**I hope you're not disappointed by the end - don't think it is what some of you were expecting. If you haven't seen it I have done a linked one-shot called The Root of the Problem.  
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. . .

Having snuffed out the lamp, Henry Anderson watched the occupants of the recently arrived car. He didn't like visitors, he didn't get visitors. It was obvious they were police, and he knew straight away why they were here. The question was what did he do now?

. . .

Hotch appreciated his colleagues concern, and to be honest he had no wish to head out in the rain to search a building that would offer marginally more shelter then the open air.

Officer Penn shifted nervously beside him.

_Maybe it would be best to wait a while, see what JJ and Garcia turned up._

. . .

Henry watched, not able to understand why they didn't do anything. He started pacing the window impatiently; unable to comprehend what was happening.

His palms started to sweat as he gripped the knife he held tighter.

. . .

Hotch stared, he swore he could see something moving. If he was right it could be the killer. He looked back at Penn, did they risk it.

As he considered the options, he was startled by his phone ringing. Garcia had set up a conference call, wanting to make all of the team aware.

"OK my superheroes, I have found all I can on the Anderson family - the name given to us by Chief Carr. There is nothing much. Dad was a migrant labourer, hard working, and clean record. He died in a farm accident ten years ago. That left Mom and little Henry to survive by themselves. According to Chief Carr, she became a live in housekeeper for the Hargreaves, when Mrs. Hargreaves became ill, Henry lived on the farm, helping out to pay his way."

"Any idea where he is now?" Reid asked.

"Nada. When Mrs. Hargreaves died, he and his mother disappeared."

"I think he's here now," Hotch stated.

"Don't go in, he's unpredictable at best," Reid began. "We don't know enough about him to have a way to talk him down."

Reid's concerns were met with silence.

Looking at each other the three stuck agents guessed what he had just done.

"Garcia," Rossi asked, "Is Hotch still on the line, as he doesn't seem to be answering."

"No sir," she gulped, "He seems to have ended the call."

. . .

Weapon drawn, Hotch entered the tattered building, Officer Penn just behind him. The only light was from the search beam of his torch.

"Henry Anderson, FBI, we need to talk," Hotch called out.

Stepping forward slowly, trying to keep himself in the shadows, Hotch decided he would be surprised if Anderson had a gun, but wouldn't rule it out either.

"Henry, we're here to help," he called again.

"Then why do you have a gun?" came a loud voice from inside door.

"Henry… I am talking to Henry Anderson, right?" Hotch questioned, his voice calm and neutral.

"Yes."

"Please could you come out into the hall, so we can talk," Hotch kept his instructions simple and clear.

He watched the doorway, gun raised, just in case. Hearing footsteps, he breathed steadily, waiting. The skinny form of Henry Anderson stepped into the hallway. The knife he was carrying glinting in the torch light.

"Thank you Henry," Hotch used his first name to try and reassure him. "Please put the knife down on the floor."

Henry turned the knife in his palm, considering the instruction. Finally he let it drop, the clatter breaking the eerie silence.

"Good, now step towards me, slowly." Hotch continued to talk him through the process, surprised by how well things were going.

Henry took a first tentative step, quickly followed by another. Soon he was within feet of Hotch.

"Stop!" Hotch ordered. "Officer Penn, please cuff him."

Hotch was not willing to lower his gun. This man, if the killer, obviously had an explosive temper add that to his unpredictable nature at it was enough to make Hotch understandably wary.

. . .

Getting back into the police car, Hotch picked up his phone. It barely rung once before JJ answered.

"Hotch," she said breathlessly.

"I have Henry Anderson in custody," he could hear her sigh at his comment. "Now we just have to work out how to get back."

. . .

Sat on the flight home the team flaked out. They were aware they had had a lucky break in more ways than one.

Hotch watched as Reid returned with yet another coffee, it was no wonder that kid never slept. Moving to sit opposite Reid, Hotch noticed Reid's surprise at his sudden change in position.

"You're going to be ok to start that target practice tomorrow morning?" Hotch asked.

Reid nodded, sipping from the steaming cup in his hand.

"We can practice every hour of the day, but it's not going to help if you are not in the right frame of mind on the day," Hotch added.

Reid looked up, startled by Hotch's comment.

"I'll be fine. I had a headache; it made it hard to concentrate," Reid half explained.

Hotch mentally acknowledge his revelation.

"Have you been getting a lot of headaches?" Hotch asked, vaguely remembering him using the excuse a while back and wondering if this could explain a lot of things.

Reid shrugged, glancing around the jet, as if trying to gauge who may be listening.

"Some weeks, yes," he finally answered.

"Have you seen someone about them?" Hotch asked, concern evident in his voice.

"No-one can give me a reason for them," he tried to brush away the conversation, uncomfortable in the current situation.

Hotch accepted the present conversation was over, and returned to his previous seat.

Reid's confession worried Hotch all the way home. Just because Reid had admitted the truth, didn't mean it would be easy to establish what was going on. He knew how closed Reid could be and that the more you pushed him the less you got. Right now the focus was on getting him through his assessment, and then he could work on the rest.

Watching the young genius, as he lazily shuffled the deck of cards, one thing did strike Hotch. That kid had seen and done so much in his life, what if there was no physical answer for his headaches, if Reid was burning out in front of their very eyes. Hotch had watched it happen to Gideon and done nothing to help his friend, he was damned if he'd let Reid go the same way.

Maybe the requalification wasn't his highest priority anymore.

. . .

**~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~**

**Hosted by ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969**

_It is our pleasure to announce the Second Annual Profiler's Choice Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds community! _

_The nomination ballot is now available, and all rules are posted on Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum! Nomination ballots must be received by October 15, 2011 and must be sent to this PM at Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Fics for consideration must have appeared on the CM section of between September 1, 2010 and August 31, 2011 (see rules for full details.)_


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